


It All Works out In the End

by Realitymess



Category: We Happy Few (Video Game)
Genre: As well as Doctors, Awkward Crush, Chance Meetings, Crush turned relationship, Fear of Rejection, First Fanfiction, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, NO LEMONS HERE, Non-Graphic Violence, Oof here we go, Pre escape, Probably other people's ocs too, Secret Crush, and it's already gay, assorted bobbies are in this, fight, i blame discord, pretty gay, thank you discord, will update warnings as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15958424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realitymess/pseuds/Realitymess
Summary: Dr. Sherlock didn't want to make friends. All he wanted was a nice place to work, a good night's sleep, and a helping of joy.Constable Watson had it all. The job he had dreamed of, a new batch of companions, and a place to stay.However unlikely and unfortunate their meeting was, they now knew a whole other side of the coin.But that's not how they would tell it.(This is NOT a crossover. I just named my characters this way, ok?!)





	1. A New Start

"So, this is what privacy looks like."

Jameson Sherlock ( _Dr_. Sherlock, if you please.) looked around the mostly barren room. There was a comfortable armchair next to a considerably dusty window, and a brick fireplace, turned black by ash and soot. The few boxes and the suitcase he brought with him were in various corners of the room, and more were upstairs. Dr. Sherlock sighed, popped a joy, and began unpacking.

Sure, in a few years it would be good as new. Sure, it would feel just as cozy as his old home. He wouldn't even notice the difference.

He took another joy disdainfully, and dismissed the thought.

After all, he should look on the bright side! He got the job he had worked so hard for! This was an _accomplishment_! He even had the certificate to prove it! He figured he'd put it above his bed- no, in the study. Then he'd have something to brag about!

" _Jeeze, this stuff is the real deal._ " He thought to himself, putting the last of the dishes away.

Dr. Sherlock had heard of a house made just for the doctors, which he found absurd. Where would you go to get some peace and quiet? No, he just had to get his own place. Then he could work in solitude.

By this time, he had finished unpacking, the boxes stacked neatly by the door, almost too neatly. He sat down in the armchair and opened the suitcase issued to him by Dr. Anton Verloc, the man himself. It was supposed to contain his doctor's mask. Sherlock expected some sort of old fashioned bird-like mask, maybe a gas mask.

 

He certainly didn't expect... this.

It looked like a human face almost, but the smile was far too wide for any _homo sapien_ to bear on their face. There were no strap or string on the mask, the only thing meant to keep it on his face were hooks on the inside, meant to keep it in place. And they looked sharp. Very sharp.

"They expect me to put this on my face?!" He said out loud in alarm. "Why don't I take a knife to the mouth while I'm at it!" Still, rules were rules, and if he didn't wear his mask, people might mistake him for a downer.

So, shuddering at the thought, he grabbed his joy and went to the washroom to put on his 'Happy Face'.

* * *

 

Watson just couldn't sit still. It had been half an hour past 9 a half an hour ago, and they still hadn't called his name. " _Well, they're probably very busy people, I should just be patient. It will be my turn eventually._ " he reassured himself.

Ever since he had entered Wellington Wells, he had his heart set on becoming a Bobby. He had always wanted to do things for the greater good, and he had finally gotten his chance! He was born ready. So why was he feeling so... un-ready?

" _It's probably just nerves._ " He kept telling himself. His legs bounced up and down as he stared at the intercom mounted in the wall.

Finally, as if on cue, the speaker buzzed to life. "Mister... Archie Maverick Watson, come into the office please." A raspy and tired sounding voice sounded out into the waiting room. Following the voice was the sound of a pill bottle, most likely joy. Watson, having calmed down a bit from his release of energy, took a deep breath and opened the door next to him.

 

"So, you applied to this job to... 'do things for the greater good', you say?"

"Yep!" Watson said a little too enthusiastically. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, and he could swear his heartbeat was loud enough that everyone in the building could hear him. The man in front of him had cold, judging eyes. Watson wondered if that was how he always looked.

"How sweet." The interviewer said considerably unsweetly. "Stand by that wall, next to the filing cabinets, and I'll measure you." he went to go get measuring tape.

After a pregnant hour of measuring and questioning, the interviewer put on a much nicer smile than before.

"Well," he said happily, "I've wasted as much of you time as I could, but you fit all the necessary requirements, Mr. Archie-"

"If you could sir, I prefer Watson." Watson bursted out.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why that's perfect. Welcome aboard then Mr- or should I say  _Constable_ Watson, I'm sure the team will be happy to have you. But, before you go, you'll need a certificate..."

 

Watson left the office as calmly as he could muster. As soon as he was out of sight in his home however, he leaped into the air with a jubilant "YES!" Clutching his certificate of honour, he jumped in circles in his living room, barely being able to keep himself from screaming out to the whole neighborhood that he had got the job. When he had settled down a bit, he framed and hung the certificate over the mantle of his fireplace.

"Don't worry mom, I'll prove that it was worth it in no time." He said to himself, as he sat down on his couch to watch Uncle Jack's late show. 


	2. A Helping Hand

Dr. Sherlock bent over the sink, holding his head as he swayed in a sort of trance.

"D-dammit." He sputtered as he spat more blood into the sink. He definitely needed to take a power nap right after this hell.

He stumbled out of the bathroom quite ungracefully, and quickly sat down in the armchair. Taking a deep breath, he stood up after contemplating his life choices and headed to the nearest mirror to see the results of the mask. Maybe it wasn't too b-

_Oh God._

Quickly, he ran to the bathroom as a wave of nausea overcame him. Whatever shape that mask made his face, like hell it was natural. He had a feeling that not even Joy could get rid of this memory. And that, well that thought terrified him.

From that moment, he decided he absolutely hated his mask.

 

He could feel the stares burning through him as he walked down the street, occasionally greeting a wellie with a 'warm' "Lovely day for it!" All he had to do was get to the house of doctors, and he would be good to go. He had managed to stop the bleeding, but there was still a nagging sense of pain. But, there was nothing he could do about it now, so...

After making a quick stop for some more Joy, he started walking a bit faster, wanting to avoid as many people as possible. Sure, he didn't want to be at his destination either, but it's not like he had a choice. Apparently he wasn't the only doctor to have applied for the job, so they were holding a 'meet and greet', with small talk and introductions and dare I say... _socializing_.

Well, it wouldn't be the end of the world if he had to say hi to his colleagues. Besides, he was almost there already, so it was a bit too late to turn back now. He calmly made his way across the rainbow painted street.Or, he did, until a very loud and telltale scream rang out through the town.

"DOWNER!"

* * *

Watson rushed to the source of the scream. He knew that there was a rumor going around that more and more downers were appearing in Wellington Wells, but he had never thought to believe it. But this was the third downer in a row. Surely this wasn't coincidence? Disregarding that thought as much as he could, he took a Joy just in case and turned the corner, expecting to see some sort of ragged monster, foaming at the mouth, ready to kill.

He looked surprisingly normal.

At least Watson had got the ‘ragged’ part correct. His clothes were torn, like he had been dragged through a bush the wrong way. He wasn't aggressive per say, but he was covered in blood and wielding an... officer's bat? How in the hell did he get that?

Luckily for Watson, he didn't notice the body of a Constable nearby.

"S-sir?" Watson inwardly cringed at how undoubtedly scared shitless he sounded. "I don't want to fight you, ok? Just, just put the bat down, and we can-"

"Can _what_ ?" The downer said with an incredibly raspy voice. "Talk it all over? Convince me to take those bullshit pills like none of this ever mattered?! Can't you see what's happening around you?! People are _starving_ , and you acting like-like it never happened!"

"Sir," Watson said with a much more steady voice that before. "I really don't want to do this." He reached for his own bat while the downer steadied his grip on his.  

Watson was never much of a fighter. He was a bit skinnier than most, and never really pursued any sort of sport. As you can imagine, this didn't really help the situation all that much.

He had managed to get a few good hits in, but for all he looked the downer could definitely hold his own. He and Watson were in a lock with their bats, one looking considerably more scared than the other. Suddenly, the downer raised his leg and kicked Watson square in the stomach, winding him very badly and knocking him to the ground.

" _Great. First day on the job, and I die to a downer_." Was Watson's first immediate thought, followed by an instant sense of fear for his life. He slowly started to back up as much as he could while the downer closed in. Watson raised his arm to protect himself...

...As the downer collapsed to the floor, a knockout syringe in his neck and a doctor standing behind him.

"I thought that Bobbies worked in packs." He said sarcastically.

* * *

 

It's not like Sherlock was lying. He had expected there to be more of the blue uniformed 'peacekeepers' around, but it was just him. Judging by how he lost this fight, he made a guess that this particular bobbie was new to the job. Or maybe he thought he could take him all by himself.

"S-sorry, I di-didn't realise-"

"You had the option? Don't worry, it was your first time fighting one by the looks of it." Sherlock interrupted with a smirk. He did have a habit of finishing sentences for others. "Here, you look pretty shaken, I'll help you to your feet." He extended his hand.

While he was helping the wounded bobby to his feet, he noticed how hurt he really was. The entire back of his uniform was shredded, and some of the rips had red stains. It looked almost like he had been mauled.

Sherlock chuckled nervously. "I knew bobbies had thicker skin than most, but that is one brutal beating you took."

"Ah well." The bobby spoke rasply. "It'll heal, and I'll forget it over time. Might leave a nice scar though." He chuckled softly.

Sherlock smiled despite himself. "So he has a sense of humor! And here I thought I was going to had to be the talker." The bobby smiled through a grimace of pain. Sherlock could swear that he was blushing. "Tell me, how long have you been a bobby?"

"Oh, this is my first day."

"Your first day? And you've already fought a downer? You should be proud of yourself!"

"Yeah... I guess I should. Except for the part when I almost died."

They both laughed as they walked down the rainbow coloured street again.

* * *

 

Constable Watson repositioned the ice pack that had been handed to him earlier. Back in the 'Main Hub', he had been regarded as a bit of a hero for standing up to a downer by himself. Sherlock had made sure that everyone was positive Watson had defeated the downer by himself. Why he did that for him, Watson wasn't sure, but he didn't have time to ask him.

Sherlock seemed like he deserved that name, or at least he did to Watson. He appeared like the kind of person who could handle his own life, who you didn't get in the way of. A introvert in every sense of the word.

"Under different circumstances, we might have been friends." He muttered under his breath.

"Eh, what was that?" A passing Constable stopped in front of him.

"Nothing, nothing." Watson sighed. The Constable nodded, and went on his way.

Watson knew barely anything about Doctors before he became a bobby, and didn't know what to make of them when he did learn about them. From what he had heard, they had a scarily acute sense of smell. They were solitary, unsocial, and frankly kinda creepy. They occasionally talked to bobbies, yet almost never made friends with any.

But Sherlock had helped him. He took care of that downer, and showed concern for him.

He had held his hand.

Maybe they could be friends after all.

* * *

 

Even though the Meet and Greet had been cancelled due to the fight earlier, today had been an exhausting day for Sherlock. He hadn't tested out the knock-out prior, and was counting his lucky stars that it worked as expected. At the moment, he had his mask off, and was sitting back in his armchair.

The mask had cut his mouth. Sherlock expected that there would be scarring. A small price to pay for staying alive in Wellington Wells. He was glad that he had this little moment to himself anyways.

Looking back on his day, his mind went back to that downer. Should he expect more? It had almost killed a Constable, were there more like it? 

And the Constable, Watson. It was true that he was new to the job, but the downer hadn't escaped any harm to his person anyways. Watson had put up a good fight. Sherlock hoped that he was alright, anyone would be shaken senseless after a beating like that, but he was making  _jokes_. Surely he would be alright... if you could laugh in the face of danger, you could do anything.

He was resilient, and possibly didn't know his own strength.

(Later on in life, Sherlock guessed this was one of the things that made Watson so loveable in his eyes. But that's in the future.)

As Sherlock took one last joy pill and headed off to get some much deserved sleep, he wondered if he would see Watson again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some introductions and backstory for the current situation in Wellington Wells. Finally getting back into the groove of writing. Can't wait to post more. Have any suggestions, please post in the comments below. Or don't. It's your choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. So, first ever fanfiction on here and it's gay. Good shit? Good shit. Yeah it's a bit short, but I'll start posting longer chapters in a bit. Let's continue.


End file.
